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Authors: Elaine Bergstrom
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arrived in London. According to these documents, he has sizable holdings there."
"And why not now?" she asked.
"It would not be be completely wise. Countess. You see, your brother's name is too well known in this country, and the fate of the sailors on the Demeter only added to his reputation. You might end up on a ship where some part of the crew knew the Demeter's story and would wish you harm. And by day…" He left the thought unfinished, a polite gesture.
Joanna shut her eyes, struggled to remember the distant past. "There is another name that is also rightly mine," she said at last. "Princess Joanna Mezid-Bey."
Steranko bowed again, lower this time. "I thought I detected some eastern blood in you. I'm sure it will do for your travel papers. Princess. I will also prepare a second set for London."
Joanna glanced in Colleen's direction, but the girl seemed to understand the language as poorly as she understood the meaning of the words. Frowning, Joanna faced the man again, adding another request in quick, dated Romanian.
It was his turn to be confused, and she repeated herself more slowly. "I wish a private cabin for myself and my servant. She will watch over me to be certain there are no mishaps."
"It shall be done. Princess," Steranko said when she had finished. "And may I remind you that this will be a long voyage with few stops. I suggest that tonight, you head north from the wharfs. The area is poor and wild. You will dine easily there, and the one you choose will not be missed."
Joanna did giggle then, out of joy, not confusion. With that quick statement she felt more at home than she had in the long, confusing days that preceded it.
On the other hand. Colleen felt suddenly ill. She didn't understand every word the man said, but it seemed that he spoke of murder as casually as he might the food at a well-respected inn. When Joanna gripped her arm. Colleen had to fight the urge to pull away, to dig in her heels as Joanna led her into the darkness outside.
"Will you… kill?" she asked Joanna when they were some distance away from the building.
Joanna shrugged. Her grip on Colleen's wrist had grown painfully tight as she led Colleen in the direction Steranko had suggested.
The streets grew narrower and muddier, though there had been no recent rain. A stench filled the air, one far too familiar to a girl who had spent too many months in the London slums. Under normal circumstances, she would be keeping to the shadows, moving in quick, silent bursts, hoping to escape notice. Now she walked with her mistress, and though she was still frightened, it was not for herself.
A man reeled out of an open door, falling against her. She pushed him away with all the force she could muster. He looked at her, eyes glazed, mind clouded with drugs or drink, illness or exhaustion. "Go!" she ordered in a harsh whisper.
Close to her, so close that Colleen could feel the chill of her flesh beneath the layers of cloth, Joanna tittered.
"Please," Colleen begged softly. "Please."
Joanna's hand covered Colleen's eyes, her free arm circled Colleen's waist, pulling her closer. Colleen felt her feet leave the ground, her body propelled upward. Lips were pressed to her neck, drawing blood with deceptive delicacy. When she opened her eyes, she saw the stars whirling above her, then slower, and slower, until they vanished, leaving only darkness…
When she came to her senses, she was stretched out in the cart, in the narrow space between its sides and her mistress's shelter. Steranko was standing at the back of it, holding a plate of spicy stew and a mug of beer. "I suggest you keep your strength at its peak," he said. "It's going to a long journey for both of you."
He left the plate and mug on the edge of the cart and turned his back to her, walking away as if she were one already dead.
Seven
When he left the restaurant after meeting with Jonathan and Van Helsing. Arthur Holmwood had vowed not to read the translation they had
"And why not now?" she asked.
"It would not be be completely wise. Countess. You see, your brother's name is too well known in this country, and the fate of the sailors on the Demeter only added to his reputation. You might end up on a ship where some part of the crew knew the Demeter's story and would wish you harm. And by day…" He left the thought unfinished, a polite gesture.
Joanna shut her eyes, struggled to remember the distant past. "There is another name that is also rightly mine," she said at last. "Princess Joanna Mezid-Bey."
Steranko bowed again, lower this time. "I thought I detected some eastern blood in you. I'm sure it will do for your travel papers. Princess. I will also prepare a second set for London."
Joanna glanced in Colleen's direction, but the girl seemed to understand the language as poorly as she understood the meaning of the words. Frowning, Joanna faced the man again, adding another request in quick, dated Romanian.
It was his turn to be confused, and she repeated herself more slowly. "I wish a private cabin for myself and my servant. She will watch over me to be certain there are no mishaps."
"It shall be done. Princess," Steranko said when she had finished. "And may I remind you that this will be a long voyage with few stops. I suggest that tonight, you head north from the wharfs. The area is poor and wild. You will dine easily there, and the one you choose will not be missed."
Joanna did giggle then, out of joy, not confusion. With that quick statement she felt more at home than she had in the long, confusing days that preceded it.
On the other hand. Colleen felt suddenly ill. She didn't understand every word the man said, but it seemed that he spoke of murder as casually as he might the food at a well-respected inn. When Joanna gripped her arm. Colleen had to fight the urge to pull away, to dig in her heels as Joanna led her into the darkness outside.
"Will you… kill?" she asked Joanna when they were some distance away from the building.
Joanna shrugged. Her grip on Colleen's wrist had grown painfully tight as she led Colleen in the direction Steranko had suggested.
The streets grew narrower and muddier, though there had been no recent rain. A stench filled the air, one far too familiar to a girl who had spent too many months in the London slums. Under normal circumstances, she would be keeping to the shadows, moving in quick, silent bursts, hoping to escape notice. Now she walked with her mistress, and though she was still frightened, it was not for herself.
A man reeled out of an open door, falling against her. She pushed him away with all the force she could muster. He looked at her, eyes glazed, mind clouded with drugs or drink, illness or exhaustion. "Go!" she ordered in a harsh whisper.
Close to her, so close that Colleen could feel the chill of her flesh beneath the layers of cloth, Joanna tittered.
"Please," Colleen begged softly. "Please."
Joanna's hand covered Colleen's eyes, her free arm circled Colleen's waist, pulling her closer. Colleen felt her feet leave the ground, her body propelled upward. Lips were pressed to her neck, drawing blood with deceptive delicacy. When she opened her eyes, she saw the stars whirling above her, then slower, and slower, until they vanished, leaving only darkness…
When she came to her senses, she was stretched out in the cart, in the narrow space between its sides and her mistress's shelter. Steranko was standing at the back of it, holding a plate of spicy stew and a mug of beer. "I suggest you keep your strength at its peak," he said. "It's going to a long journey for both of you."
He left the plate and mug on the edge of the cart and turned his back to her, walking away as if she were one already dead.
Seven
When he left the restaurant after meeting with Jonathan and Van Helsing. Arthur Holmwood had vowed not to read the translation they had
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